


I Made You

by thatsyouharold (soyouwannaplaywithmagick)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Children, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Friendship/Love, M/M, Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2015-12-15
Packaged: 2018-05-06 21:28:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5431373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soyouwannaplaywithmagick/pseuds/thatsyouharold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Last year's Christmas gift for jacks-pearl. (Loosely) based on "The Snowman" by Raymond Briggs. Little John makes himself a friend out of snow...</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Made You

I Made You

“What a dream I had/Pressed in organdy/Clothed in crinoline/Of smoky burgundy/Softer than the rain”  
-“For Emily, Whenever I May Find Her” by Simon & Garfunkle

 

 

-What am I?  
-You’re snow, sculpted to look like a boy.  
-Where did I come from?  
-I made you.

He frowned, the boy made of snow. Then his soft, white head gave a little nod, accepting it all. He held out his hand to the other, rosy-cheeked boy in front of him.

-Hello.  
-Hello.

The touch of the boy’s white hand was cold. The second youth, with the red cheeks and blond locks smiled, a sunshiney grin.

-I’m John.  
-John.  
-Yes. You’ll need a name, I suppose.  
-Suppose, yes. But I’m not worried about it.  
-Nor am I, then.

John kept grinning, and the boy made of snow noticed the way the flesh of his hands was red and nearly chapped. It was very cold, but the boy did not feel it. He had many more questions for John.

-What do I look like?  
-Well. I gave you curly hair, and I didn’t have any coals for eyes so I just had to draw them in. They’re very clear-looking. You’re [here he struggled for the word he’d learned in school] pristine.  
-Hm. I suppose that’s pleasant.  
-It is to me.

While John looked him over, he noticed the boy was beginning to move more and more, silken hands fluttering in the freezing air and white face turning to the sky. He was clearly curious, but he was taking everything in, logging it for some knowledge of what the world entailed. The rapture on his face fascinated John.

-Why did you make me?

Here, John did not immediately have the words. His breath curled from his lips as a puff of smoke, and he thought about how the boys in school always walked together with other boys or sometimes with girls, how he saw them arm-in-arm carrying schoolbooks and laughing. He thought of last Christmas and the Christmas before and how he’d always wished for the same thing and never, ever received it.

-Because I was alone.  
-Were you unhappy?  
-Yes. But I’m not anymore. I wanted a friend.

The boy’s white teeth appeared from behind his thin lips, and John smiled too.

-And now, I am your friend.  
-If you want to be…  
-I do.

John’s smile widened, and the boy made of snow mimicked the same grin. As he looked at him, though, John felt that something was still missing. He tilted his head to the side, looking the other boy over.

-You know, you should have a name. Every little boy does.  
-Are you going to name me?  
-Yes. I will call you… Sherlock.  
-Okay. I will call you John.

And John laughed because the boy’s voice was so soft and fascinated, it sounded to him like a beautiful bell ringing in a chapel that had been empty for years.

*~*~*~*

-Is it very cold?  
-Yes. But I’m sure you can’t feel it.  
-No. Does it always get this cold here?  
-This is the most snow we’ve gotten all year. It’s why I could make you.  
-Oh.

Sherlock was lying on his back on the blanket of white, gazing up at the blue sky above him. John lay beside him, and soon, Sherlock could hear the other boy’s teeth chattering.

-Should we get up?  
-No. I’ll have to go inside soon. I just wanted to spend a little more time with you.  
-What happens inside?  
-Well, we eat and then get ready for bed. But tonight is Christmas Eve so we will be exchanging presents and that sort of thing too. We don’t have much money, but we always do something for one another. My mum, my dad, my sister, and I.  
-You have many people who love you.  
-Yes. But I’ve never had a friend. Until you.  
-Neither have I.

John rolled onto his side so he could look at Sherlock and pressed his hands into the pockets of his old coat which was fraying at the seams. He could feel the snow seeping into his clothes, but he didn’t care.

-Sherlock?  
-Hm?  
-I’m glad we’re friends.  
-As am I.  
-I’ve never had a friend on Christmas.  
-What makes Christmas special?  
-It just is. It’s a magic time.  
-Hm.

Smiling, John thought about the expression on Sherlock’s face. He was thinking like his life depended on it, taking the world in like it might just melt away under his hands.

-After everyone goes to sleep, I’ll come back out and we can talk more.  
-Good. I would like that.

*~*~*~*

-Sherlock?  
-Here, John.  
-It’s so dark.  
-Here.

And Sherlock reached out to touch him with cold hands. John shivered as Sherlock’s fingers closed around his wrist, and a thrill of ice shot through his veins.

-I brought you this.  
-What? For me…  
-Yes. It’s a gift. It’s Christmas, after all.  
-What is it?  
-It’s a scarf. You put it around your neck like this.

The scarf matched the blue of John’s eyes and he thought it brought out the clearness of Sherlock’s. Sherlock seemed to admire the scarf for a moment (in the dark, John’s eyes were beginning to adjust), and then he finally raised his eyes to meet John’s.

-It’s lovely. But I’ve nothing for you.  
-You’re here. That’s more than enough for me. Would you like to walk together?  
-I would.

They walked, and eventually, John talked Sherlock into holding hands. Sherlock had only objected because he did not want John to be cold, but John continued to tell him he did not care. As they walked, John felt the snow under his hand, shaped like fingers and palm, and fancied there was warmth deep down underneath. They strolled together and talked lightly. Sometimes, one would laugh at something the other said, but mostly, they laughed together.

-You ought to get to bed. Your face is flushed, and you have yawned ten times in the past three minutes.  
-I know. But I don’t want to leave you.

So they continued to walk. Though they just made circles in the snow around John’s house, it felt like they were very far away, like they were the only two people in the world.

-Do you like to dance?  
-I don’t know. I’ve never danced.  
-It’s easy. I’ll show you.

John took both of Sherlock’s hands and moved to an imaginary song, his steps clumsy but in time to his tune. Sherlock picked up the silent music quickly and matched John’s movements. They laughed together and danced under the stars until they were exhausted. Sherlock curled his finger around a lock of John’s hair, and it clung to John’s forehead afterward, soaked.

-You are yawning again.  
-I know. I still don’t want to leave.

Sherlock’s colorless eyes turned away for a moment, and then they were back on John’s.

-Close your eyes.  
-What?  
-Close your eyes. I owe you a gift, do I not?  
-I told you you don’t need to get me anything.  
-I know. Close your eyes.

Obediently, John did and his lashes softly grazed his red cheeks. Sherlock watched him breathe for a moment and marveled at the life inside him. Then, with extreme care in his movements, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to John’s.

-Oh!

John gasped and tasted snow. Sherlock’s lips froze his own, and it felt better than any mug of coca, any A on a test, any toy he’d ever unwrapped, any fuzzy rug, any warm fireplace, any ray of sunshine, any lazy afternoon by the lake, any pleasure his young life had ever shown him. When Sherlock pulled away, John’s eyebrows came together softly and he stared at the boy made of snow.

-Oh…  
-Happy Christmas, John.  
-Happy Christmas, Sherlock.

John turned to walk away and then made it a point to look back and speak once more.

-I will see you in the morning.

*~*~*~*

When John awoke the next morning, he threw on his clothes, not thinking of anything except going outside and seeing Sherlock’s warm smile on his cold lips. He barreled down the stairs and threw open the door. It surprised him that he had to shield his eyes; the sun was very bright.

He looked around and saw little at first. Then, suddenly, he was able to make out a small hill of snow, no higher than his calf. He ran to it and fell to his knees.

-Sherlock! SHERLOCK!

He knew, of course, because buried beneath the snow was the blue scarf.

*~*~*~*

-Mike. I should go now. It was a great party though.    
-Oh, please, John, stay! There’s someone I want you to meet.  
-I don’t think I ought to. But I had a good time––  
-Just a moment, please! Ah, here he is. Sherlock, this is an old friend of mine, John Watson.

John’s eyes widened, and the breath left his body, just as it had all those years ago when he’d tasted snow on the lips of the boy who’d kissed him.

-John. Pleased to meet you.

It took him too long to respond, but once he did, John’s words came out breathless and quiet, the way a blanket of white falls from the sky on a cold, dark night.

-I made you.  
-I know.

 


End file.
